


Clothes Pins and Tension

by masterwords



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aaron Hotchner Whump, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Divorce, Episode: s03e09 Penelope, Gun Violence, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Protective David Rossi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29099607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterwords/pseuds/masterwords
Summary: “Battle changed his mind at the last second,” Dave said, his voice too cool.  Too calm for someone covered in his best friend's blood.  “I'm going to Aaron's house to grab a few things, half of you need to stay here and lock this down, the other half get to the hospital.  I don't care who goes where, just get it done.  I'll be at the hospital as soon as I can.”  His tone chilled all of them to the bone, he was furious.  It was a side of Dave they had yet to see, and it was unsettling.“He's got a key to Hotch's place?” Spencer asked, turning to watch Dave stalking toward the elevator, wiping his bloody hands all over his jeans, just trying to clean his fingers enough to press the button. It didn't work, he left a bloody fingerprint behind anyway.  Derek and Emily shot each other a confused look and shrugged, taking in the intensity of the scene surrounding them.  How Spencer could be focused on that, neither of them understood.“Let it go, kid,” Derek replied, patting his friend on the shoulder. “It's none of our business.  Get to the hospital with Prentiss, I'll stick around here with Garcia and JJ.  We'll be there as soon as we can.”
Comments: 9
Kudos: 58





	1. PART ONE

**Author's Note:**

> Just watched Penelope (S3e9) the other night and started thinking about how she would react if Hotch had been shot by Battle in the stand off at the BAU. How they were all watching the camera from her apartment as it happened. This is a LONG one, broken into a few parts because it’s intensely long already, just a big whumpy excuse for Rossi to tell some stories, get closer with the team and bond over young Hotch, etc. (title comes from Matt Nathanson’s song “All Said Before” which always makes me think of Hotch)

“Dave,” Aaron gasped. His pistol clattered to the ground just before he hit, his knees going out from under him like a rag doll, head hitting the floor with a sickening crack and everything went hazy. It had all happened so fast, two gunshots, two men down, the sound of shattering glass dripping to tile filling their ears. Across the city, four FBI Agents in a small apartment all cried out at the same time, watching in abject terror at a scene unfolding that they couldn't control. Deputy Battle was dead, JJ's shot had been perfect, but none of them had banked on him turning his gun at the last minute away from the cowering IA Agent and firing a shot directly at Aaron. No one even saw it coming. Moments later, Dave was on the floor shouting for an ambulance, his hands pressed hard into the mess of Aaron's hip. A river of blood surged between his fingers, knuckles white under pressure. Aaron's body was limp, blood creeping up his crisp white shirt, pooling beneath him. JJ checked for Battle's pulse before rushing to Dave's side, and dialed 911 as she crouched there. An ambulance was already on the way, they said, called by Spencer from across town. Kevin was mortified, standing useless staring at the scene. 

“Can I help?” he muttered, but no one heard him. He didn't really want to offer help anyway, he was frozen in place. Soon the scene emerged into total chaos, EMTs rushing in with their stretcher and their equipment, pushing Dave and JJ out of the way, firing off questions, yelling at Aaron to try and get him to come to. Dave couldn't get the sound of Aaron's head hitting the floor out of his mind. He watched them work to save his friend's life, to stop the bleeding, fight against his protests of panic as he floated in and out of consciousness, unaware of what was going on or who had their hands on him. He was desperately calling out for Haley, and the EMTs asked Dave to come over, to try and soothe him so they could finish getting him ready for transport.

“Aaron,” Dave started, pressing his bloody hand to Aaron's head, looking into his panic stricken eyes. “I'm here, you're going to be okay you just need to let these people do their jobs...” It was enough to make him stop thrashing, to hold still for just long enough that they could stabilize him. “I'll see you at the hospital, I'll be right there. Be nice to them.”

“What happened?!” Morgan hollered, storming into the BAU minutes after the stretcher carted his boss out the door. Penelope and Spencer followed close behind, their faces stricken with a kind of sickness and horror not often seen on either of them. 

“Battle changed his mind at the last second,” Dave said, his voice too cool. Too calm for someone covered in his best friend's blood. “I'm going to Aaron's house to grab a few things, half of you need to stay here and lock this down, the other half get to the hospital. I don't care who goes where, just get it done. I'll be at the hospital as soon as I can.” His tone chilled all of them to the bone, he was furious. It was a side of Dave they had yet to see, and it was unsettling. 

“He's got a key to Hotch's place?” Spencer asked, turning to watch Dave stalking toward the elevator, wiping his bloody hands all over his jeans, just trying to clean his fingers enough to press the button. It didn't work, he left a bloody fingerprint behind anyway. Derek and Emily shot each other a confused look and shrugged, taking in the intensity of the scene surrounding them. How Spencer could be focused on that, neither of them understood. 

“Let it go, kid,” Derek replied, patting his friend on the shoulder. “It's none of our business. Get to the hospital with Prentiss, I'll stick around here with Garcia and JJ. We'll be there as soon as we can.” 

Penelope was, by all accounts, a bigger mess than the BAU looked. She was slumped over in her chair and the events of the day were pouring out of her through a cascade of tears and sobs she couldn't control. The image of her boss collapsing on the floor was too much, she saw it every time she blinked, she couldn't breathe. 

“Babygirl,” Derek said gently, approaching her. “Stay with me, please. I need you here, we gotta get this done. Hotch is gonna be fine. Let's get this all cleaned up and get to the hospital, okay?”

“How can you be so sure?” she whispered, her voice a broken mess of sobs and tears. Mascara tracked deep, black rivers down her cheeks, dripping into her lap. 

“It's Hotch,” he replied, so sure of that answer. Not a soul could tell him otherwise. “He's always fine.”

The house was dark and still, impeccably clean like it was being staged for sale. Dave shuddered when he entered, it felt heavy like the death of something, there was something ominous and deep inside he couldn't escape. He walked quietly through the main floor and up to Aaron's room, finding small stacks of half-packed boxes along the way. The bedroom was lined with boxes, towering and stacked against the wall, labeled in big bold black letters, Aaron's handwriting. He stepped into the bathroom and washed his hands again, digging under his fingernails, but he just couldn't get the feeling of Aaron's blood out from every pore. He'd already washed his hands three times and changed his clothes, but he still felt like he was covered. Drying his hands on a towel, he looked in the mirror and shook his head – he was getting soft in his old age, he figured. Dave opened a few drawers in the bathroom, and then the bedroom, grabbed what he needed and shoved them into a bag he found in the closet and got out of the house without hanging around any longer. That Aaron slept there, in that bedroom surrounded by boxes, in a house that was now only haunted by the ghost of his marriage sent a shiver up Dave's spine. Throwing the bag into his car, he thought about Aaron calling out for Haley, calling out like he believed she'd be there. 

At the office, everyone had cleared out, leaving only Derek and Penelope standing alone in the BAU. JJ had gone to the police station to handle what was left of Deputy Battle's part in all of this. Desks were scattered apart, glass shattered and spread all over the floor, and blood was everywhere. They were assured that the janitorial crew were on their way, but both of them felt obligated to take care of at least some of it. Derek quickly began throwing desks back into place, straightening out cubicles and people's belongings, wiping any residual blood from desktops and chairs with a face that was unreadable. Penelope watched him sadly for a moment before making up her mind and grabbing a mop and bucket from the cleaning closet. She left Battle's blood, his blood could stay there forever as a reminder of how badly she'd messed up, but she needed her friend's blood gone. The blood that shouldn't have been spilled. She wished it had ended with only her own. It was sticky, dried in places, looked like a topographical map of the great lakes through the veil of tears in her eyes. 

“Garcia,” Morgan said quietly, watching her scrub at the blood that the mop just spread around, pink and crimson swirls and foam now covering her hands and knees. She was practically swimming in it. “Babygirl, you don't need to do that.”

“I do,” she whimpered, sniffling. “It's my fault. It's all my fault.”

“No,” Morgan replied, crouching before her, reaching out and turning her chin up until she was looking at him. “It was Deputy Battle's fault. You didn't shoot Hotch.”

“I may as well have,” she whispered, big droplets of tears splashing into the blood, salt and iron swirling together. “If I hadn't...then he wouldn't...Derek, I need to do this.” 

Nodding, he understood it. He would feel the same, if it were him in her shoes. But, watching her there, covered in her friend's blood, weeping over the events that had unfolded, it killed him. She was the last person he would ever want to see so gutted, she was so pure. He grabbed a rag and joined her, on his hands and knees, and silently they scrubbed until the floor was clean. 

Hospitals are not quiet places by nature. Spencer and Emily were seated beside one another on a bench nearest the doors to the OR, listening to the sounds of staff buzzing around them, carts holding machines clattering down the hall, patients yelling in the ER and over it all was the noise of the intercom, paging doctor after doctor. Emily saw Dave coming toward them first, a bag slung over his shoulder, cleaned up and holding coffees in his hands. 

“Morgan and Garcia are still finishing up at the office,” Emily offered, helping Dave offload the coffees and other various belongings so that he could sit down. “JJ is at the police station, dealing with Deputy Battle's precinct. They might be a while, it sounds messy.”

“No word on Hotch yet,” Spencer added, sipping the hot coffee. He wrapped both hands around the cup, long fingers intertwining and holding the cup close to his chest. “They took him right back into surgery.”

Dave nodded, he'd expected as much. This wasn't his first time in this position. Over the years, he'd been on both ends, the one bleeding and the one worried about the bleeding. He much preferred to be the one bleeding, if you were to ask him. He hated to worry about people he loved, it made him feel vulnerable in ways he wasn't accustomed to. The three of them sat in silence, sipping their coffees, staring at the operating room doors as if they could will them to open, produce a doctor with good news, but none came. Derek and Penelope showed up later, showered and in new clothes, followed not long after by JJ. The bench wasn't big enough for all of them, so Dave stood and began pacing the hallway, arms folded over his chest, lost in thought. Haunted by the sight of Aaron's bedroom, the emptiness of that house, the overwhelming loneliness his friend must have been living with. He could hear Aaron's voice calling out for her and wondered how often he woke in the middle of the night doing the same. The boxes were only half-packed, which told Dave that Aaron was still hopeful that Haley might change her mind, but he was prepared for her not to. To let she and Jack have the house. He pulled out his phone and, without giving it much thought, dialed Haley's number.

“Hello?” came her sleepy voice from the other end of the line. 

“Haley, it's Dave,” he said softly, peering at the team who were lost in a hushed conversation. “I'm sorry to bother you so late but Aaron was shot tonight, he's in surgery now...” his voice trailed off for a moment, and before he could continue, she broke the silence on the other end of the line. 

“We're separated,” she replied calmly, clearing her throat. He could hear her trying to sound unaffected, trying to put on airs that she didn't care. “You don't need to call me anymore.” She wanted to ask if he'd be okay, she wanted to care, but if she opened that door now then the next thing she knew she'd be sucked right back in and it had taken her so long to get out. 

“I know,” he said, his voice sharper than he'd intended. “But you're still his wife, and the mother of his child. I thought you should know.”

“Yeah, well, thanks. I'll pray for him, Dave, but I won't be coming to the hospital. I can't do this anymore. He doesn't need me, he has you again. I'm glad you're back.” 

Dave nodded, he understood. She wasn't coming back, that much was clear. Her mind was made up, had probably been for some time. He wasn't sure how to respond to her, but she didn't give him an opportunity, there was a soft click and then silence on the other end. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and sighed, shaking his head. Before he could process that conversation, the doors swung open before him, flooding the hallway with doctors and nurses talking excitedly to one another, sweeping past the team on the bench. One tall, portly man in a white coat and a bouffant cap remained behind, standing stiffly before them. Dave made his way back over, watching as everyone stood up, almost at attention. 

“Aaron Hotchner?” the man asked, and they all nodded. Dave stood off to the side, but the doctor turned toward him for a moment before proceeding. “We've closed up for the night, but he's not out of the woods yet. There was a lot of bleeding, he received three transfusions, but the bullet missed his organs – he was very fortunate, in that regard. Unfortunately, the bullet traveled across his pelvis and lodged itself in his hip joint. We weren't able to retrieve it in its entirety tonight. We've done what we could for now.”

“Oh God,” Penelope gasped, turning into Derek's arms, burying her face in his chest. He hugged her tight and stared at the doctor in front of them. 

“He's in recovery now, and then he will be moved up to the ICU. He's looking at a number of surgeries, and a long recovery process but we have reason to be hopeful. Visiting hours are 7am to 7pm in the ICU, and only one person at a time is allowed in the patient's room. I would suggest going home and getting some sleep tonight.” 

“Someone needs to stay here,” JJ muttered after the doctor walked away, her eyes wide, unblinking. “We can't just leave him alone.” Dave nodded in agreement.

“I'll be staying,” Dave said softly, crouching to pick up the bag of Aaron's belongings, ready to move to the ICU lounge. “You all should go, come back tomorrow. I'll let you know if anything changes.”

The ICU was cold. Too cold. But it was quiet and dark, every room filled with a sleeping patient and noisy machines. Dave peered in through the window, watching as they wheeled Aaron's bed through the open area and into his room. He could just barely see into the room, nurses and techs buzzing around him, hooking up machines and observing vitals, adjusting his positioning, all while he slept. Something awful gnawed at Dave's insides, watching his friend lying there helpless, at the mercy of people they had to trust would take care of him. He wasn't the only one in the lounge, there was a woman seated in a chair under the television knitting, humming softly to herself. 

“They're very kind here,” she said, not looking up from her work. “My husband has been here for three months, they'll take good care of you.” Dave turned to look at her and smiled sadly. 

“Thank you,” he said, because he wasn't sure what else to say. She set her knitting in her lap and regarded him with squinty, sparkling blue eyes, her face lined with years but he could tell she was in the business of smiling more than frowning. 

“Is it your wife?” she asked, and Dave shook his head. 

“Friend,” he offered, taking a seat where he could keep Aaron's room in his line of sight. She nodded.

“You're an awfully good friend to sit here,” she said softly. “Don't think I've ever had a friend willing to sit in the ICU for me. Lucky I've got my Barry.” 

In Aaron's room, everything was still. It was dark and cold with cream colored walls with faded bits of wallpaper that were probably once cheery images of spring flowers before seeing all that they'd seen. He was vaguely aware of his surroundings, heavy lidded eyes blinking into the void. Flashing lights on noisy monitors, green and red and blue and yellow glittering wildly in the inky black. Smiling, he saw Haley beside him, felt her hand on his, and he let his eyes drift shut again. In the darkness behind his eyelids, he was very aware that he was, in fact, completely alone, but he held onto that feeling of her warmth like he did every night in his own bed, holding her pillow close to him, making believe like a child. 

Morning brought with it spears of sunlight filtered through blinds and sheer curtains, and he blinked his eyes open, squinting into the pooling golden glow. He shifted his eyes, blinked, saw a hand on his and smiled. Slowly, he tried to turn his head, neck and shoulder muscles stiffly doing what he asked of them, until he found himself looking into the face of a good friend. 

“Dave...” he said, his voice pale and worn. 

“I'm right here,” Dave replied, wrapping his hand around Aaron's now, squeezing gently. Aaron's hand was cold and he made no attempt at moving it. 

“What happened?” His eyes drifted shut again. He couldn't focus, everything was swimming around him, hazy and swirling, it felt like being a teenager again, sneaking too much of his father's vodka and passing out in the tree house. The world spun dangerously around him, his body felt electric and heavy, sounds didn't make sense. 

“You were shot,” Dave offered in a low voice. Aaron nodded, swallowed thickly. He remembered now. He hadn't felt any pain, just a snapping sensation in his hip, like a child popping bubble wrap, followed by an overwhelming sensation that something was very wrong, and then he couldn't stay upright. He didn't feel any pain now but he knew it was there, looming around the corner when they pulled him from the good drugs. 

He gulped, licked at his dry lips. “And Battle?”

“Dead. JJ shot him.” 

Aaron swallowed hard and sighed. He knew he should have done it, hated the idea that JJ had to do it. “Is she okay?”

“She'll be fine,” Dave offered, patting Aaron's hand. “Don't worry about her. She's a tough kid.”

Aaron was taken away for a second surgery, and the team showed up, flooding the tiny lounge with people. The knitting woman had left her belongings there while she sat at her husband's bedside, and Dave slid them under a chair for safe-keeping. He'd begun to think of her as his new roomate, they had to take care of each other. Penelope hardly spoke, didn't smile, just stayed small in the corner fighting the tears that never seemed to stop burning her eyes. She hadn't slept, hadn't eaten, was a creature made of misery. 

“Is he okay?” she croaked when Dave sat down beside her. He shrugged.

“No,” he said, very plainly. He didn't elaborate, didn't have the energy to put into taking care of her too. She let out a sob and buried her face in her hands, and he did feel bad for her, but he didn't know her that well yet. Didn't know any of them that well. He felt like an island, sitting in that room while they consoled each other, his only solace coming from the fact that he knew Aaron better than any of them and so he, too, belonged there among them. 

“You have a key to Hotch's house,” Spencer said quietly, leaning toward Dave. 

“Huh?” Dave asked, turning toward the younger man, who had a blank look on his face. It took him a minute to register what Spencer had said, then he nodded slowly “Oh, yeah. I used to house sit for him, when his family would go on vacations. Water the plants, get the mail, that sort of thing. He has a key to mine, too.” 

“Cool,” Spencer replied, realizing maybe for the first time how far back this friendship went. It was hard to picture anyone being close with Hotch, close enough that Hotch would give them a key to his home, he wasn't a person who you got close to. He was more of a cactus than a puppy. “So you know him pretty well?”

“I guess so,” Dave shrugged, not in the mood for small talk or pleasant conversation but something in him said that the kid needed it, so he complied. “The team used to be a lot smaller and the bureau didn't exactly give us a lot of cash to work with. We had to share hotel rooms a lot, you can't help but get to know someone you're sharing a room with pretty well.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

“About what?”

“You and Hotch and Gideon...” Dave detected a shift in Spencer's voice at the mention of Gideon's name and he sighed, resigning himself to the fact that this conversation was happening with or without his enthusiasm. If he no longer wanted to feel like an island, he'd have to start here. 

“You and Jason were close?” Dave asked, and watched sadness flood Spencer's face. 

“Yeah,” he replied softly. “I guess. He left me a letter when he left, just me.” 

“He's not an easy person to love,” Dave offered with a smirk. “The fact that he let you get close enough that you actually liked him...that tells me a lot about you. He was a pain in my ass, every day. A brilliant, wonderful, infuriating pain in my ass. I once watched him stare at a hole in a wall for an hour without moving, he wouldn't speak to any of us, hardly even blinked. Aaron tried to get him to move, I tried, even Max tried but to no avail – he just stood there, staring into this hole. I tried to copy him, to see what he saw, but it was just drywall and plaster to me. And then, all of a sudden, that asshole had solved the entire case. I still have no idea how he did it, what he saw that we didn't. He just did things like that sometimes, saw things in a way no one else did. I see a lot of that in you, too, kid.” 

Spencer smiled, felt his cheeks flush. “Thanks, I think?” 

“It's a compliment. There aren't many people I have more respect for than Jason Gideon.” Silence fell for a moment, filling the spaces between them. It seemed like everyone was listening now, hanging on Dave's every word. He hadn't even noticed the shift, from everyone having their own conversations to a room full of faces turned directly on him. 

“Tell us about Hotch,” JJ said softly. “Was there ever a time he was like us?”

“Like you?” Dave asked, cocking an eyebrow. He searched the room, the expectant faces, like story time for children at the library. Suddenly he knew what they meant. “Oh, yeah, I see. Yes, of course. I remember when he finished his courses and officially joined the BAU, he would show up every morning an hour earlier than everyone else. He sat at your desk, Emily. It was a disaster – not messy, though, just so filled with piles and piles of work. He would never say no when someone asked him to complete a report or consult on a case, he was preparing profiles for cases all over the country. An hour early every day, two hours late every night. He did a lot of what you do now, JJ. He reviewed case files and chose the ones we'd travel for, he talked to the media, he made himself the face of the BAU. He was tirelessly trying to prove himself and his worth to us. He smiled more, brought us coffee and donuts some mornings, that was how we knew he was going to tell us we'd be traveling. Maple bars meant the case was particularly bad. He's never been much of a talker, but if you pay attention, he has his own language.“ Dave paused, watching as they wheeled Aaron back into his room, still sleeping. “We used to have to share hotel rooms everywhere we went. It often ended up being Jason and Max to one room, Aaron and I to another. We'd all meet up for a glass of whiskey to end the night. Aaron would call Haley to say goodnight every single night, without fail. I envied his devotion to his marriage, I never could manage to do what he did and I tried three times. I'd sit and watch a movie while he talked to his wife, genuinely immersed in the mundane stories of her day because it reminded him that the entire world wasn't the terrible things we saw. It was how he coped, I guess.”

Morgan regarded Dave sadly, listening intently. He liked to think he knew Aaron pretty well, better than most, but he had joined the team after Dave had already gone, he never got to see this side of his boss. “I wonder if she knew,” he said, hoping he hadn't betrayed too much. He wasn't sure anyone else knew that Haley had left, though he could guess at least Dave did. 

“How could she?” Emily asked, her eyes wide. “If you don't stare into this every day, you can't...you just can't.”

“He's awake,” came a voice from the doorway, and they all turned to see a nurse standing between them and the patient room. “I told him there was a room full of people out here waiting for him, he said he'd take a visitor. One at a time, please. He's tired and in a lot of pain, we'll need to keep it short and give him breaks.”

Dave stood, arching his back, stretching himself out from head to toe. “Garcia, you look like you need to see him first,” he said, patting her on the shoulder. “Go ahead.” She nodded, sucked in a deep breath, and followed the nurse back to his room. He was staring at the ceiling, she could tell he wasn't really all there, his features were set in a pained grimace, all tight lips and narrow eyes but he looked foggy. 

“Good morning, sir,” Penelope whispered, and he turned his eyes in her direction without moving his head. He didn't say anything, he was gritting his teeth. She sat in the chair beside his bed and watched him, he was so stiff, just lying there. “How are you feeling?” she asked, knowing that it was a stupid question. Knowing she shouldn't have said it. He didn't answer, just made a pained sound from somewhere deep in his throat. His body tensed up and he squeezed his eyes shut, pursing his lips. His features went pale as he groaned, shifting in the bed, until he made a very wrong move and cried out, alerting a nurse to come rushing in. 

“I'm sorry, you should probably go, he needs to rest,” the nurse said quietly, reaching behind Aaron to adjust his pillow, try and make him more comfortable. “We can try visitors again in a bit.”

Penelope just stared at Aaron for a moment, and nodded. He wouldn't look at her. She was certain he was mad at her, blamed her, and with good reason. Shielding her face as she began to cry again, she turned and left the room, making for the lounge. Morgan intercepted her in the doorway and wrapped her in a hug. 

“What happened, Garcia?” he asked, holding her tight. She sobbed uncontrollably into his chest, soaking his shirt. 

“He wouldn't even look at me, didn't say anything...he’s mad at me, I know it...” she muttered. Morgan shot Dave a look, and leaned forward, kissing her on top of the head.

“It's okay,” he assured her. “It's okay.” 

He was the next to go back, when they had Aaron's pain under better control. He didn't sit beside Aaron, just stood next to the bed, looming over him, taking it all in. The man, normally so imposing in his suit and tie, looked fragile and small in the hospital gown. 

“Hey man,” Derek began, meeting Aaron's eyes with more than a little defiance. “You know, Garcia feels bad enough already about what happened without you making it worse. She needs to know you're not mad at her.” 

Aaron swallowed thickly, licked his lips, tried to speak. “Mor-” he began, his voice paper thin. “I'm not...” he winced, groaned, stopped talking again. He couldn't focus on words. Couldn't calm the storm in his head, the pain radiating in tidal waves from his leg, racking his body with intense shivers. There weren't words that could bypass the intensity of it, or describe it. Derek just stood, staring at him, unsure of what to make of it. 

“You're not what?” he asked, but a nurse came in and swept him out of the room at the first sight of Aaron's vitals going haywire again. 

“No more visitors for a while,” she said, depositing Derek back in the lounge. “He needs rest.” 

Dave approached Derek and pulled him out into the hallway, away from the team. He could see the look on the younger man's face, and he didn't like it. “What did you do in there?”

“What did I do?”

Dave's look was accusing,but he didn’t answer. Derek straightened himself up for a moment, then thought better of it and softened his approach. 

“I just told him he didn't need to be mean to Garcia, she feels bad enough already. She thinks he's angry at her after she went in and saw him, said he wouldn't talk to her.” 

“So you told a man with a gunshot wound, lying in the ICU, that he needs to cater to the needs of the woman who brought this mess into our lives?”

“Hey, man,” Derek began, and Dave shook his head dismissively. 

“No, not hey man. Listen to me. If I know him as well as I think I do, she's misinterpreted the situation entirely. No way in hell he's mad at her, he doesn’t think that way. Now you, on the other hand, he might find a way to be mad at if you went in there guns a blazing...”

“I just,” Derek started, but he stopped, and nodded. “Yeah. You're right. I just can't stand to see her cry, I didn’t think it through.” 

“I don't blame you, really. I can tell she feels awful, and I know he wouldn't want her to feel that way but our job here is to make sure that he is taken care of, not her. Got that?”

“Sure,” Derek replied softly. “Yeah. I'm sorry.”


	2. PART TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more lighthearted in places, building up to some serious emotional and physical whump in Part Three. Enjoy your reprieve. ;)

Dave was a natural story teller, and there was something about a loved one being in the hospital that made people want to tell stories about them. To dredge up memories, comfort themselves with stories of a life lived, just in case. While Aaron was taken in for his third in a long string of surgeries, the team sat around a table in the noisy cafeteria, eating dubious hospital food, hanging on Dave's every word. They were, by all accounts, planning to suck him dry of stories about Gideon and Hotch and the old days, none of which any of them knew because Gideon and Hotch were absolutely not natural story tellers. 

“Picture this – we're in Oklahoma, in the dead of August. Aaron's been with us about six months at this point, he's not brand new anymore but he's still trying too hard to impress us. I'm wearing a t-shirt and jeans, Jason and Max are too. Aaron shows up in a suit and tie, because that's who he is. It's gotta be over a hundred degrees out there, and we've got a dead prostitute to go and look at outside, no shade. The a/c in the car we're in was broken, we drove with the windows down the whole way and sucked down all of the water we'd brought with us before we even got to the dumpsite. Aaron is drenched in sweat, but he won't say a word to any of us, just goes about his job. Max is clueless, he doesn't do people, but Jason and I, we were watching him carefully. He started to get pale, his hands were shaking when he'd pick things up or point at things, so I started hanging a little closer to him. I was convinced he was going to pass out without ever saying a word to us, it wouldn't have been the first time. Max thought the scene was making him sick, thought he couldn't handle the sight of the girl, told him to go take a walk. He was offended, but he obliged. I trailed him for a minute, hanging just far enough back that he wouldn't think I was trying to baby him, and I watched as he found this little creek that was running through the property. He doesn't even hesitate, he rolls his pants up, takes his jacket and shoes and socks off, and just rushes into that water. He's wobbling around on slimy rocks, but instantly he looked better,” Dave paused, listening to the team laughing at the image being painted in their minds now. “Now I'm jealous, so I copy him and go splashing into this tiny little creek. Instant relief. I've never felt so good in my life. Pretty soon, here come Max and Jason, and then we're all four standing there in water almost up to our knees, sweating buckets and laughing.” 

JJ pushed her hair away from her face and shook her head, laughing. “I have a hard time picturing all of you, standing there in the water when you're supposed to be looking at a victim.”

“Oh, it gets better,” Dave said, popping a tater tot into his mouth. “Jason feels something slide against his leg, and then I see it – this big oily looking black snake, so we all rush for the bank quickly, not sure what kind of snake it was and not wanting to take any chances. Aaron, not very sure footed because he had been on the verge of passing out just minutes before, slips on the rocks and lands hard in the water. Soaked head to toe in a gray suit. Bangs his knee good on a big rock, ends up sopping wet and limping around the rest of the day. He's a trooper though, he never complained, even when the local PD made jokes about him. Those guys were relentless, Gideon finally stepped in and asked them to stop and focus on the case.” 

Even Penelope laughed, now. It made her feel lighter. Derek shook his head, sighing. 

“That sounds about right,” he muttered, finishing off his salad and tossing the paper plate toward the nearby trashcan. 

“More!” Emily shouted, clapping, wildly amused by the entire conversation. She didn't know any of this, it was all new to her. Truth be told, she didn't know any of them very well yet, but she was getting there with everyone save for him – he was easily the hardest person she'd ever come across when it came to actually getting to know them. Dave settled back into his chair, folding his arms over his chest, searching for another good story – one that wouldn't expose his friend too much, but might help them all pass the time. 

“One more, one more,” he agreed, smiling. “Florida, he'd been with the team about a year, loosened up a little. He was still overworking himself, of course, but he's clearly not stopped that habit. We all went out to dinner at this little Cuban place, and he didn't bother to tell anyone that he was allergic to shrimp. Max and Jason order this ceviche for the table, it's incredible. Fresh caught fish and shrimp in this lime and orange cumin sauce, to die for. Almost literally for Aaron. Max insisted that he try some, he politely declined, then Jason and I joined in – oh, Aaron, you have to try this, it's so good! Just piling on him, not having any idea of course, and never ONCE does he say no, I have an allergy but thank you, like a normal person. He finally gives in and picks out a piece of the fish with a hunk of lime on it, I remember how he dug through the bowl until he found it, and I thought my God he's a picky eater. Not ten minutes later, he's excusing himself from the table to go to the restroom, he looked a little off but we kept drinking our beers and chatting. Jason mentioned he'd been gone a while and asked me to go check on him, because Aaron and I were already closer than the rest of them I suppose, and you all know Jason struggled with...people...sometimes. I get to the bathroom, he's in there just throwing up everything he's eaten for the last year it sounds like. His skin was bright red, his lips were swollen and his hands and arms were covered in these huge hives. It was awful, he was humiliated, and that's when he decides to tell me he's got a shellfish allergy and could I please take him to the ER because he doesn't have his epi pens on him. Luckily I got him there in time, they gave him an IV of epinephrine and Benadryl, and that was the first of many times I had the pleasure of sitting in the hospital with him for hours on end.”

“He's never told me he was allergic to shellfish...” JJ said softly, and they all glanced at each other, shaking their heads in agreement. “No one knew?” No one knew. No one was surprised at that.

When Aaron was back in his room, it was Dave who the nurses asked to come back first. He entered the room, quietly taking in the chill in the air, the smell of antiseptic and blood emanating from his friend, the quiet way he stared at the ceiling, clearly just trying to keep his grip on whatever composure he had. He didn't look at the door when Dave entered. 

“It's just me,” Dave offered, and he instantly saw his friend seem to relax, just a little. His shoulders released tension, and his face went from grim to almost sad, vulnerable. He let the persona drop, made a soft, almost helpless sound that made Dave's heart stop beating for a moment, made his skin go hot. Slowly, he approached the bed and grabbed the paper thin blankets folded at Aaron's feet and draped them over his friend gently, tucking them in around his shoulders. He went to the corner he'd stashed the personal bag in and grabbed the blanket he'd packed inside, spreading it over Aaron gently, eliciting a small half smile from his friend. 

“I don't deserve you,” Aaron whispered, settling himself into the warmth of the blanket that smelled like home. Dave smirked. 

“No you do not.” 

Aaron shivered and slid down deeper into the blanket, until it sat up near his chin, and groaned at the movement. “Did the...they...did they leave?” He was struggling to focus on words, and Dave just lay his hand on top of Aaron's chest, shaking his head. 

“They're all still here, don't worry about them. I'm telling them all sorts of fun stories about you,” Dave said quietly, a devilish twinkle in his eyes. Aaron shifted until he was looking at Dave, brows furrowed in a scowl.

“Wh...what stories?”

“Nothing too personal, just...something to pass the time. You have a way of coming off as larger than life, I'm just...knocking you down a few pegs. Making you seem more human. Don't worry about it.”

“Don't wanna be human...” Aaron whimpered, tensing up, shifting uncomfortably. “Human hurts.”

“Mmhmmm. Any recommendations?”

“Th...the time...you wrecked our car...got us stuck in that swamp in New Orleans...that's a good one...” Aaron mumbled, gritting his teeth through another wave of pain. Dave regarded him with a sour look and shook his head. 

“I meant about you, not me,” he said, but it was in jest. It was a fun story and he'd love to tell it. “How about the time you tripped and fell over one body and landed on the other one in Salem? Wasn't that at Halloween? And Max, of all people, tried to catch you?”

“N...not...funny...” Aaron protested. “Broke my hand. Haley yelled at you.”

“It was hilarious,” Dave argued. “She was furious because you were supposed to do anniversary photos and they were going to be ruined by your cast. I told her it would add an element of realism to the portraits...she didn't speak to me for weeks after that.”

The room seemed to get colder as they sat talking, Dave doing his self-appointed job of distracting Aaron from his pain with ease. He could make Aaron laugh faster than anyone. 

“You call Haley?” Aaron asked after a while, his face going several shades of serious. Dave nodded, a shadow falling over his features. “She's not coming?”

“No, she's not coming.” Aaron nodded, he understood. He figured as much, but that didn't mean he hadn't been holding out some kind of hope that she'd come and at least smile at him. She'd hadn't filed for divorce yet, and stupid as he knew it was, he was still hopeful that she'd come back. “I'll try calling her again, maybe I'll talk to Jessica.” 

“No...you don't...you don't have to. It's okay.” 

After a week of surgeries, Aaron was moved out of the ICU and into a step-down unit, and another few days lead him to the main floor admitting. He still had a long stay ahead of him, but not being in the ICU did wonders for him and everyone else. Dave was able to stay with him at night, and the team cycled through coming to sit with him when they could during the day. They'd all returned to work, but Strauss promised she'd do her best to keep them in Quantico for the time being and she kept her word for longer than any of them had imagined she would. 

“The case in Albuquerque needs you,” she told Dave, standing over him at his desk. He leaned back in his chair, wholly unimpressed by her – a move not many at the BAU would even attempt. “Everyone else is busy, and even Agent Jareau agreed that your team would be the best to send. I understand you're all worried about Agent Hotchner, but at a certain point you all need to realize that he's going to be out of commission for months, and the fact of the matter is that he may never return in the capacity you are all hoping. You'll have to forge ahead without him.” 

“Do you know something we don't know?” Dave asked, leaning forward and resting his hands on his desk. 

“Our Bureau team has been in touch with his physicians, and they're not convinced his recovery will include him ever being a field agent again. The possibility exists, of course, but the odds are not in his favor. His injuries were rather severe and I think it would be in all of your best interests if you accepted that and thought about what that might look like for your team going forward.” She folded her arms across her chest and leveled her gaze at Dave. “I'm sorry to have to be the bearer of bad news, especially so soon after your return to the BAU, but facts are facts David. Round up your team and get to Albuquerque, I'll have Agent Jareau tell them you'll be there today. You'll act in a leadership role in the interim.”

“No, I don't want it,” Dave replied, standing up now. She couldn't power play him when he looked her directly in the eye, she wouldn't dare. “Give it to Agent Morgan. He's got his eye on a promotion, I can see it. Give him a chance to prove himself.” 

She nodded, and without another word, swept out of his office. He was sure he felt it warm up by at least ten degrees once she'd gone. Down in the bullpen, he could hear JJ telling them about the case, he could hear their irritation and disgust with the way this was being handled. They were still grumbling when Dave called Derek up into his office and shut the door.

“What's this about?” Derek asked, leaning against the wall. 

“You're the lead now,” Dave replied with a shrug. “This is your team for a while.”

“Why not you?” Derek replied, walking toward Dave now, confusion written on his features. “You have more experience than me, you outrank me. What's she playing at?”

“It was my call. I don't want it, and I think you do. Am I wrong?” 

Derek regarded the other man suspiciously for a moment before shrugging. “I dunno. I've tossed the idea of Unit Chief around for a while, but this isn't how I want to get it, man.”

“Aaron will be back, mark my words. I know there is a lot of doubt right now, but I have faith. And if he doesn't come back in a way that allows him to maintain his position, there isn't anyone he'd rather see lead this team, I can tell you that right now.”

Telling Aaron about Albuquerque was harder than Dave thought it would be. He took it too well, that was part of the problem. He was taking all of this too well. 

“It's fine, Dave,” he said softly, shifting in order to get comfortable. He'd already learned by now that it wasn't possible to get comfortable but that didn't stop him from trying. Therapy was coming up, and after that would be worse pain, so he tried to enjoy the reprieve while he had it. “They need you more than I do.” 

“Strauss said,” Dave began, narrowing his eyes a little at his friend. “She told me that they're not sure you'll return to the field. She sounded pretty serious about that. What are you not telling me?” Aaron swallowed hard and turned his eyes up at the ceiling, his fingers playing with the bandage at his hip beneath the blanket. 

“Dave,” Aaron began in a voice that had no fight in it, none of the usual Hotchner flare. “I think you already know. The chance that I'll ever be able to walk unassisted again is slim, and if I can't...” his voice broke, he couldn't hold it together. “If I can't do that...” 

“You will do it,” Dave said, rather sternly, placing himself beside his friend. “I know you will.” Aaron looked at him now, and there was a brokenness in his eyes that chilled Dave to the bone. That was a side of Aaron he didn't know, the side that was willing to admit defeat. 

“You should go, you have a plane to catch.”

“Don't you dare,” Dave warned, scowling. “Don't you give up on me. This isn't over. When I get back from Albuquerque, we resume this conversation.”

“You know where to find me...” Aaron replied softly, closing his eyes and letting the tears he'd been fiercely holding back fall down his cheeks. 

While the team was away, Dave left Penelope explicit instructions to spend as much time as she could with Aaron, which stressed her out to no end. She hadn't been back in his room since her breakdown, she just couldn't do it. He'd asked for her to come, told Morgan to have her come, texted and called but she just couldn't. Every time she walked down that hallway, working up the courage to look him in the eye, she ended up turning back around, riddled with guilt and panic. Now that the team were halfway across the country, she had no choice – it was either that, or he was all alone, and somehow that was worse.

“Penelope...” Aaron said softly, his voice thick with sleep and drugs. Therapy had been particularly challenging that day and his pain was more difficult to manage as he became more mobile. “Come in, please.” She shuffled in slowly, arms full of a stuffed animal that he couldn't recognize in his fog but it didn't look like any bear he'd ever seen, flowers and a bag of take out. 

“Good morning, sir,” she squeaked, setting the takeout down on a chair and nestling her flowers down among the many other arrangements dotting the room. The stuffed animal, she handed directly to him. “It's...it's a wolverine, sir. It reminded me of you. Because you aren't always the biggest or the toughest out there, but you're always the bravest, you never back down and you always win.” 

Aaron smiled, examining the animal, holding it before his face with weak hands. “Thank you,” he whispered. He didn't feel at all like the person she described, but it made him feel good anyway.

“I'm so...so...SO...” she began, but he shook his head. 

“Don't apologize,” he muttered. “Not your fault.”

“No, sir, it is my fault and I know it. I made a lot of mistakes and I know I didn't shoot you and I totally get that but I did mess up big time and he would never have been there in the BAU at all if I hadn't...I'm just so sorry.”

“I forgive you,” Aaron said softly, and he meant it. He didn't hold her responsible for it, not even a little. She was trying to help people, she'd made a mistake and already owned up to her role in it, but there was nothing she could have done to stop Battle from doing what he did. He was a serial killer, and Aaron was certain that they would eventually have been involved in his story anyway. She nodded and set her glasses down, wiping the tears desperately from her eyes before her makeup ran all over her face. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat, heading for the bag of food. 

“Are you hungry, sir?” she asked, pulling out Styrofoam containers filled with waffles covered in berries and whipped cream from his favorite diner. “Agent Rossi told me that you like waffles.” Aaron smiled and nodded. 

“I do,” he replied, eyeing one covered in blueberries with a dash of cinnamon on top, exactly the way he would have ordered it. She grinned ear to ear and handed him the container and a fork, then seated herself with the other. “I hear Agent Rossi has been telling you guys a lot about me...”

Penelope nodded, her blonde curls bobbing as she frantically chewed her food. “Yes. He has. Is that...okay?”

Aaron shrugged and hummed a little, shifting to take weight off of his painful hip. “I trust his judgment.” To Penelope, that meant he didn't like it and it wasn't sanctioned, but there wasn't any point in being upset about something that had already happened. She finished her waffle before he'd touched even half of his, which concerned her a little, but she didn't say it. 

“For what it's worth,” she began, throwing her empty container in the garbage. “It's been really fun hearing stories about you and Gideon and Rossi all working together. I'm sorry I missed that.” 

“Me too,” he replied, pushing a fork full of whipped cream and berries into his mouth. He hadn't eaten this much food in weeks now and it wasn't sitting well, but he didn't want to stop – it tasted divine, and would probably break her heart if he let on that he was full or feeling ill. He'd already upset her enough, and wasn't keen to do it again. Instead, he just slowed down. “You would have made our lives a lot easier.”

“Sir,” she said, a little sadly as she stood up and smoothed out her skirt. “I have to get back to work but I promise I'll be back later with dinner. I know you get your meals taken care of here but they're garbage and I can't let you eat that. Any requests?”

“No.” Food was low on his list of needs or wants, what he really wanted was to see Haley, to be in his own bed, to walk. Even just to have a moment without pain. All things he couldn't have. “Bring whatever sounds good to you.” 

Albuquerque was hot and the case was challenging, the unsub was in his cooling off phase and the team found themselves at a dead end, just moving in circles trying to figure out how to get ahead of him instead of waiting for another body. It was dinner time, and everyone had gone out, but Dave decided to hang around the hotel, he just wanted some quiet. As he paced his hotel room, glancing at crime scene photos and maps every so often, he was struck with an urge to make a phone call. He tried to ignore it, knew it was probably a mistake to act on it, but in the end, he dialed. 

“Haley,” he said calmly into the phone. He heard her sigh. “Please hear me out.” 

“I told you I can't,” she pleaded, and he could hear the weakness in her voice. She was less sure of herself now. 

“I know, and I get it. I do. I've been divorced enough times to see the writing on the wall. But they're saying he may never walk unassisted again and Haley, the look in his eyes...I have no right to ask this of you, I know, but could you just...go to him? One last time. As his friend, something you've always been and should continue to be even once your marriage is over.”

“Our marriage is over. What about you? Will you be there?” she asked, and he sighed. 

“I'm in New Mexico, we were sent out on a case and he's alone. Take Jessica with you if you're not comfortable being alone with him. I'm sorry to put you in this position Haley, I am...”

“Fine. Okay. We'll take Jack to see him tomorrow morning, but I can't promise anything after that.” 

“I'll take what I can get. I know this is hard for you, but please know...you're helping.”

“Yeah. Isn't that always the way? He needs help so we run to him, but where is he the rest of the time? I've been rushing to his side my whole life, chasing after him, but I'm always left standing alone once the dust settles.”

“Haley...” Dave started, but she took a deep breath and quickly interrupted him.

“I'm filing for divorce. If you think my going to him tomorrow is going to change anything, it won't. The papers are being drafted as we speak.”

Dave nodded. He'd already known. “Understood.” Divorce. The bane of his existence. Marriage could be so enchanting, loving someone so completely that you devote your life to them, and when it failed, as it always did with him, it was soul crushing. Every time. Every one of them had taken more than belongings and money with them, they'd taken a piece of him too. The idea that his friend was walking that lonely road now was almost more than he could bear. He wondered if Aaron would ever have called him, had he not returned to the BAU, but he didn't need to wonder long – he already knew. 

“Garcia, how is he?” Dave asked, now lying on his bed with a tray of room service in his lap. His room was quiet, the television silently airing the evening news, the only sound coming from the humming and rattling of the air conditioner. 

“I just got home. We had dinner, I brought him soup, he seemed...so sad, sir. I don't think I'm much help.”

“You are, I promise. Thank you for spending time with him. We are going to be awhile here, I'm afraid, so please keep it up. And...keep me in the loop if you see anything out of the ordinary coming through from Strauss, if you catch my drift.”

She nodded. “Of course, Agent Rossi.”


	3. PART THREE

He'd been dreaming when she came in, she could see it in his features. It had been a long time since she'd seen him having anything but a nightmare, he looked so peaceful that she didn't want to wake him except she'd brought Jack and Jessica along and they didn't come to watch him sleep. She already didn't want to be there, it was taking every ounce of strength she had not to reach out and hold his hand, or stroke his cheek, fall into those old habits – it would be so easy, he was so beautiful. Like he was lit from within. This felt so natural, being beside him in a hospital, it was what they did. If it wasn't his father or his reckless friends or his drinking buddies, then it was his job. He could tell you how many spots were on the ceiling of at least twenty separate hospital rooms at any given time, she knew. What every flower was on the wallpaper, he probably could have started his own IV by this point. 

She cleared her throat, bouncing Jack's squirming toddler body in her arms. He wanted to run, to play, to do anything in the world except be bound in his mother's grip. 

“Da-da!” Jack squealed, startling Aaron out of his sleep. His eyes blinked open, sudden panic flashing over his features before reality settled in and he relaxed. There was a moment that he thought he was dreaming, and he blinked again, just to be sure. 

“Haley...” he whispered, licking his lips. “Dave said you weren't coming...” He looked relieved. Happy, even. 

“Yeah, well, he's persuasive. He doesn't let things go. Don't ever say he never did anything for you.” She looked irritated, but she forced a smile for Jack and cooed at him. “Look baby, there's daddy...”

“Da-Da!” Jack squealed again, reaching for his father with chubby outstretched arms. Aaron struggled to sit upright, groaning and gritting his teeth. Jessica approached silently and raised the head of the bed, before he could ask (he wouldn't have asked anyway, she knew) until he looked steady and somewhat comfortable. 

“Thanks, Jess,” he muttered and she gave him a tiny smile, adjusting the pillows behind his head and slipping back behind Haley again. Haley shot her a serious look but Jessica just shrugged, she was a caregiver by nature and she couldn't help it. She wouldn't apologize for it. After all, she'd been friends with him as long as Haley had, and she wasn't the one divorcing him. She planned to remain neutral, she knew these big feelings would blow over soon and it would be okay for all of them, they could be a family again even if it looked different. They were all just so raw. 

“C'mere buddy,” Aaron said softly, holding his arms open. Haley lowered Jack into his arms as gently as she could, then stepped back and took a seat in the chair nearby to watch. He hugged his father tight around the neck and yelled in his ear and tried to stand up on him, use him as a jungle gym. Aaron groaned deep in his throat every time Jack's foot connected with his abdomen, and Haley struggled with whether to step in and take him back or just let it be, but Aaron was doing his best not to let Jack know he was hurting him so she stayed back. These were uncharted waters. 

“Gentle,” Jessica called, approaching the bed and leaning close to Jack's face. “Gentle with daddy okay? Like with kitty. Can you show me how you give kitty love?” Jack changed immediately, sitting down and petting his father's arms and giving him soft little kisses on the chest. 

“When uh...when are you being discharged?” Haley asked, quietly. She wanted to ask more – if he needed help, how long he had to be out of work, if he was going to be okay, but that was a slippery slope. She could so easily fall back in, and it would be good for a while, but he'd slide right back into his old habits and they'd just end up here again only when Jack was older and would understand more. It would be irresponsible of her to let it happen again. 

“In a few days,” Aaron replied, shrugging, never taking his eyes off of Jack. He wasn't entirely sure, and he hadn't shared much of it with anyone yet. “It's complicated.”

“He misses you,” she said, changing the subject, her voice cold. He looked at her for the first time, and she tried to hold her composure – he looked so sad. So broken. She could hardly stand it. 

“Come home.”

“No. No, you don't get to say that Aaron. It's not that simple and we both know it.” 

“It's exactly that simple,” he said softly, pulling Jack close to him, burying his face in the mop of baby scented hair. “You just have to come home. We can fix it.” 

“We have to go,” she said, standing up and walking to the bed to grab Jack. “I have to get to work.” 

“You have a job now?” he asked, giving Jack a kiss goodbye. She nodded, grabbed her son and held him close, rocking him in her arms. Jessica approached Aaron and paused for a moment while they spoke. 

“A lot of things have changed. I'm glad you're okay, Aaron. I...was worried. Call me when you have time to visit Jack, okay? Anytime.”

“Okay...” he whispered, it was all he could muster. 

“Do you want me to lay you back down?” Jessica asked, waited for him to nod, and pressed the button, helping him get comfortable before they left. “Take care of yourself, Aaron.”

“Thanks,” he said, closing his eyes. He couldn't watch them leave, because somehow he knew it was the last time. She wouldn't be coming back to him. 

“Who wants pizza?” Penelope asked, parading into the room. She'd passed Haley in the hallway and chattered with her for a few moments, simple small talk, but she could see the hurt there. After the conversation, she'd hurried to Aaron's room, knowing she was going to find him in rough shape and she was right. He looked like he'd been crying, but he'd managed to stop just before she entered. His eyes were puffy and his nose was red. He didn't answer her, so she set the box down and set about dishing them up – she had a finite amount of time, and her job was to ensure that he ate and report back to Dave. She shimmied over to him, plopped a plate on his lap, raised his bed until he was upright and sat down beside him like an old pro – she'd been at it days now, she knew what she was doing. There was a sweet spot that seemed to make him most comfortable and she was an expert at finding it now. Sometimes, when he got like this, the best way to help was just to power him through it, that was what Dave had told her. 

“Am I a bad father?” he asked no one in particular, catching her off guard. He turned his eyes to her, but he seemed to be looking through her. 

“I'm not qualified to answer that, sir, but...I doubt it.”

“My father was a tyrant...but at least he was around...I knew him...”

“Oh, sir,” she started, her eyes connecting with his in a moment of panic. She hadn't really ever considered that he had a family until she met his brother, and then that was it. He was so private that it was difficult to imagine him having ever been a child. Like he'd just been put on this planet in a suit and a tie with a scowl, skipping childhood altogether. She cleared her throat and straightened up a little. “With all due respect, I don't think just being around is enough. It's the quality of the time and the love that's important. I know you love Jack.”

“My father said he loved me every day,” he whispered, staring at his pizza. He felt sick. “He would say he loved me and kiss me on the head and go to work. If he had a good day, he'd do the same when he got home and we would have a good night. If he had a bad day...” his voice trailed off and he closed his eyes. Penelope gulped, she was suddenly not very hungry. “He was a bad father in almost every regard, but he was a father. He taught me things, important things. You have to be around for that. I'm...I'm already failing Jack in ways my father never failed me.”

“You aren't...” she began, but was cut off by a team of therapists entering the room with a wheelchair. They didn't seem to even notice her there, or care. They had a schedule to keep to, she knew it. This wouldn't be the first time they'd been interrupted during lunch, but it would be the first time they'd been in the middle of what felt like a very heavy, very important conversation. She wanted to ask them to wait, to come back in a few minutes because he didn't just open up to people and she didn't want him to have to bottle it back up, but it was too late. 

“Ready for some exercise?” one young lady chirped, approaching the bed and taking the untouched pizza off of Aaron's lap. Penelope scooted back and held the pizza, watching as they quickly worked to lower his bed and maneuver him from there to the wheelchair. He was able to stand, but she noted that he still wasn't putting any weight on his injured leg, even after more than a week of therapy. He looked thin and fragile, not at all like the big scary man she was used to. She wasn't privy to the information but that seemed like a bad sign to her. Aaron gave Penelope an apologetic look. 

“I'm sorry, Garcia,” he muttered and she just smiled at him. 

“I'll be back with dinner, sir, don't worry about it. Kick some serious butt in there.” 

In Albuquerque they'd had three more bodies dropped and were closer to catching their guy. The whole team was at dinner, seated around a big table, begging Dave to tell them more stories. They'd been at it all week, amazed that he continued to produce – the man was made of stories, and it distracted them from the reality of their situation. Not having Hotch with them was really throwing them for a loop in the field, but Morgan was doing a great job and they all knew they were watching the birth of a future Unit Chief, if he wanted it. He slipped almost effortlessly into the role. 

“You guys are insatiable,” Dave mused, sipping his glass of wine. “What do you want to hear?”

“Was Hotch always so...” Emily started, clearly searching for the right word. “By the book?” Dave laughed, it was a startlingly loud eruption, and she got a little giddy at the prospect of what that meant. 

“By the book? He wrote the book, but only after getting himself into enough situations that he could do it. He claimed it was all in the name of research. In his first year, he was held at gunpoint, in multiple hostage situations he was lucky to get back out of, ran into a burning building because the fire department was taking too long and there was a victim inside, you name it, he did it. By the end of his first year with the unit, he was an expert in crisis negotiation and teaching us things...you can imagine why.” He paused, looked around the table at all of the expectant faces and smiled. “There was a time when he and I both got suspended, his first time being investigated for misconduct. It was my fault. We'd been arguing over music, driving too fast down a back road in Louisiana, just outside of New Orleans. We're talking about whether The Rolling Stones peaked or if they were still producing good music, it was heated, and all of a sudden I notice this alligator right in the middle of the road. I jerk the wheel to the side to try and miss it, but over-corrected and sent us flying into a huge swamp.”

“Gross,” Spencer muttered, chewing a bite of his fourth piece of garlic bread. He had a plate full of lasagna in front of him but he couldn't get enough of the bread. “Do you have any idea how many parasites are in the average swamp?” 

“No,” Dave muttered with a smile. “I'm sure you could tell me though. But please...don't. I'd rather not know. So our car is in a swamp, sinking fast. We roll down the windows and climb up onto the roof, swearing and laughing at the same time. There are crawdads everywhere, you can see them, they're huge and other creatures that would give you nightmares...you all know he's allergic to shellfish, so he's just trying to keep his cool and think of a way to get out of there without having to get into the sludge. We couldn't, had to get into this waste deep muddy water back to the road. Our clothes were soaked, caked in muck, we smelled rancid for days after. It was a five mile walk in the Louisiana heat to a gas station where we could call for help – they let us finish the case, and then suspended us without pay. If you ever wondered why it is that he is always the one who drives...well now you know.” 

“He almost sounds like a regular person,” JJ mumbled, stabbing at a meatball on her plate. “Almost.”

“Oh, he's not regular,” Dave mused with a soft smile. “Definitely not. When Jason and I first met him, we knew he was anything but regular, that's why we pursued him. He's extraordinary, and just the same as I see that in him, I know he sees that in all of you.” 

“Do you?” Spencer asked, leaning forward. He was still thinking about the parasites. 

“Do I what?” Dave asked, knowing exactly what the kid meant but he was going to make him ask again. Because he was a little drunk and it amused him. 

“Do you see that in us too?”

“I trust his judgment,” Dave replied, winking. He wasn't going to answer, not yet. It might set a bad precedent. “He knows what he's doing.” 

“Is he coming back?” Derek asked, injecting some seriousness into the conversation. Dave regarded him for a moment and gulped the last of his wine, folding his hands in his lap. “Is it realistic for us to think he is?”

“That's the plan,” he replied, after some careful thought. The restaurant had gone quiet, cleared out, and they were surrounded by the sounds of bussers hauling plates and glasses away from tables, the only voices in the place belonging to them. They'd need to leave soon. “There will be challenges, significant challenges, but I expect we will see him back.” He was trying to believe it, too. 

Dinner with Penelope was vegetarian Chinese takeout, from Aaron's favorite restaurant. He was seated in his bed looking over a sheet of paper, nose wrinkled in disgust, when she appeared in his room. 

“Hi, sir,” she said, and he glanced up at her quickly. “How was your therapy?”

“Painful,” he muttered, shrugging. “They're coming back in an hour to do some more in this room.”

“Well we'd better eat fast then,” she replied, setting his meal in his lap with a grin. She looked completely and utterly giddy. “Agent Rossi told me this was your favorite order at Red Dragon, egg foo young with extra gravy and no rice.” Aaron smiled and nodded, giving in just a little to her enthusiasm. It was hard not to. 

“You'll soon find that he pays attention to every little detail. It can be challenging sometimes.” 

“I'm sure that makes him a great profiler,” she offered and he nodded. 

“Suppose so. If you get a chance, he keeps menus in his desk, you should go grab one and look at it. You'll see he's noted what everyone has ever ordered in his presence. It'll be in his own shorthand, but you can figure it out. Sometimes he uses it to help him decide what he might want, what people might recommend, other times he'll just bring you lunch one day out of the blue and it'll be exactly what you needed. I have never known anyone like him.” 

“I'm glad he came back,” she mused, leaning back in her chair and settling in to her own meal. Every so often she glanced up to make sure he was eating, thankful that he was this time. He didn't finish his meal but he made a good sized dent in it before the therapists made their way in and began setting up their equipment. 

“Oh good, you're here,” the same young lady from earlier said, approaching Penelope who was now shuffling around trying to pack up all of her things so she could get out of there. “We'd like you to stay, if you could. He's going to need someone to help him with these exercises when he's discharged.”

“Oh, oh no...” Penelope stammered, shaking her head. “I won't...I mean...I don't think...”

“It's okay, Garcia,” Aaron said, closing the lid on his meal quickly. “You won't have to help me at home, I promise, but please...stay now?” 

“Of course,” she replied, because how could she say anything else? If he asked her to lasso the moon, she'd find a way to do do it. She stood up and grabbed his dish, setting it aside with hers to be resumed after therapy. Her hands were shaking a little, she knew she was not the first choice or even the second or third here...but he was stuck with her. If you asked him, though, he'd tell you something very different. 

The therapist lowered his bed and watched as he moved, as he swung his legs over the edge, because he had to do that part on his own these days. Penelope felt like she needed to look away, the way his face contorted in pain at just that movement was almost too much, and she would have to be there for all of it. Slowly, he pushed himself off of the bed and stood upright, gripping the walker being held in front of him. 

“I know it hurts but I need you to bear weight on your left leg, you need to take at least three good steps for me,” the therapist said softly. He nodded and shifted, pushing the walker forward, trying to walk. His eyes were trained on the floor, teeth gritted, taking as many steps as he could. He made it to three and kept going, because he had to, he couldn't stop, even if the pain was almost unbearable. The young woman asked him to stop and crouched down, wrapping his knee and foot into braces, to get him used to them more than anything. Once that was complete, he looked like he was going to be ill and she asked him to take a few more steps. 

“Miss?” the therapist asked, waving her over. “He can do all of these on his own, he just needs a spotter. Someone nearby in case he loses his balance. Can you do that?”

“I...sir....?” she asked, and he nodded. 

“Garcia, it's okay,” he said softly, focusing on his task. He'd been through it enough times not to need instruction. His features were grim, focused hard, he looked almost scary but she could tell he was frustrated. He wasn't just frustrated, he was angry – at his body, mostly. Garcia had been shot by the same man and she was up and moving around, you would hardly know it had even happened except for how every so often her hand would find it's way to her stomach and rest there for a moment. Blink and you'd miss it. Here he was, still rotting in a hospital bed because he couldn't manage a few simple exercises. That wasn't entirely it, of course, but his mind had a way of reducing things to their simplest explanation, and it was far easier to dwell on his inability to lift his leg than it was to think about there still being pieces of a bullet in him that hadn't finished shifting, fragments of bone slipping closer to his spine, risk of infection or internal bleeding, invisible threats he couldn't control. More surgery looming over his head if things went south. So, the leg lifting. He simply couldn't do it, and the therapist tried with all her might to help him. For almost an hour they worked, doing small exercises, walking, resting and doing it all over again. It was soul crushing for him to be so exhausted, so in pain after what felt like so little...he'd run marathons, and here was he was, reduced to pulp after an hour of tiny steps. 

“Okay, we're done for the night. You did great, really great, I see a lot of progress! I'll be back in the morning, get some rest. I have a good feeling about tomorrow!” 

He nodded but said nothing, just watched as she removed his braces and helped him get back into bed. The equipment was packed up quickly, and soon the two of them were alone again. 

“You'll get it, sir,” she said softly, watching him for any reaction. He wasn't there, he was just sitting with his eyes closed, lost inside of his own head. “I know it.” Silence fell between them and he didn't move, not even a little bit, she could barely even see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Sighing, she packed up her belongings and got him situated the same way she did every night, bed laid back just enough that he could sleep and his big fluffy blanket pulled up to his chin. He made no effort to speak and she was okay with that, so she just (without even thinking twice about it) leaned in and kissed him on the forehead, said goodnight, and left.

Visitors were allowed in the middle of the night, but not encouraged, however, Jessica didn't care. Rules had never concerned her much, she forged her own path. She felt like a naughty teenager again, climbing out of her bedroom window and slipping away in the night to meet her boyfriend on the dirt road in his rust bucket of a pickup to drink stolen beers in the woods. Except this time she was a grown woman who quietly walked out her front door and got into her own car – times change, but only so much. She found Aaron lying wide awake in his bed, the room dark save for the light that pooled under the door from the hallway. He looked at her, watched her enter, but said nothing. 

“Haley doesn't know I'm here,” she whispered, approaching his bed. He swallowed hard and nodded. “I just can't let you do this alone.”

“Why? You don’t need to do this anymore.”

“Aaron, just because you two can't make marriage work doesn't mean it just...erases a lifetime of friendship. Listen, I can't stay, I have to be up early for work but I needed to come talk to you, I couldn’t sleep without coming down here. I was thinking...what if I come stay with you for a while? Let Haley and Jack have my house to themselves, give them some space, and I can come stay with you until you can do it on your own.” 

“Not sure Haley would like that idea...” he muttered, closing his eyes.

“I can handle my sister. You just think about it, okay? I'm going to call Dave tomorrow to talk to him about it, I'm sure he's already got ideas..I guess I just wanted to let you know it was an option.”

She didn't stay long after that, only enough that she could help him to the bathroom and get him some water, make him comfortable for the night. It felt so natural to them, she'd done it so many times before that it was old habit, second nature. In the dark, he almost looked like that scared teenager who showed up at her bedroom window with a bloody lip or a broken nose, hoping she'd let him inside even though Haley was out of town for a band trip or swim meet. He would sleep on the floor, curled up in her closet and be gone before she ever woke up in the morning but all of her clothes would smell like him and sometimes she'd have to clean blood out of one of her dresses that had fallen to the floor but it was okay. By the time she left the hospital, he'd fallen asleep, and she felt better. 

Emily was shocked to see Aaron's office still locked up tight when they returned. She wasn't sure why, she knew he was still in the hospital but it just felt wrong to see it with her own eyes. It had seemed like forever that they were in New Mexico, like he should have had plenty of time to recover, but it wasn’t true and she knew it. They were all strangely quiet as they set their belongings down at their desks, unloading a week of case files and reports before settling in. 

“I thought he'd be back...” Spencer whispered to Emily and she nodded, glad she wasn't the only one.

“Me too. Weird, huh?” 

“Yeah...”

Derek walked by and rushed up to Dave's office, shutting the door behind him quickly. Dave looked up at him, silently, waiting for the other man to make the first move. It was chilly in his office. 

“How much longer?” he asked, finally, taking a seat across from Dave. 

“I'm heading over to the hospital at lunch to find that out,” Dave replied, sighing. “I'll let you know as soon as I have some idea.”

“What do we do now?”

“We do our jobs. As much as it pains me to say this, Strauss is right, we need to operate under the assumption he isn't coming back for a while. You're doing great, Derek. We'll get him back, but in the meantime, we don’t want to make a mess for him right? We need to focus and keep moving forward. You need to take the reins and lead this team like it's yours.”

“Right. I got this.” He sounded a little less confidant than usual, like he was trying to convince himself, but he tried. 

“I know you do.”


	4. PART FOUR

“Talk to me, Aaron,” Dave said, seated in his friend's hospital room, watching him try to rotate his ankle and bend his knee in the bed, all of which was done with what looked like considerable difficulty. Dave had taken the afternoon off, with Morgan's blessing, deciding his time was better spent here than signing off on case files that weren't due for a week. He also just hated the paperwork, and was maybe hoping someone else might come and do the work for him if he left it sitting in the open. 

“Nothing to say,” Aaron muttered, grunting as he tried to lift his foot off of the bed, tried to flex his hip and move it. “My sciatic nerve is damaged, and I can't...” he muttered, starting over on the exercises. The therapist was going to be there to get him soon and he was desperate for some kind of improvement. “I can't...” He couldn't focus on the words. 

“It's okay,” Dave assured him gently. “They said it would take some time but it should mend itself. We need to have faith.”

“I don't have time,” Aaron mumbled, starting the exercises again, realizing he also had very little faith. Each time hurt worse, and he made no improvement. He was caught in a loop of stubborn shame. Dave approached him and rested his hand on his friend's shoulder, trying to pull him out of the hole he was digging himself. 

“You will get through this, and you will have help. Derek is doing a great job leading your team, you don't need to worry about us.” 

“I know,” Aaron said softly, relaxing at Dave's touch. His voice was low and breathy. “I just...there’s a lot going on. I need to find a new place. Haley isn't going to come back, and she needs the house. I can't stay there without her. They're telling me I've got to wear braces on my foot and knee to help correct the damage and walk with a cane and that means I can't be in the field...I'm just stuck here in this bed knowing that once I leave, my life is...”

“Listen to me. I've seen you overcome obstacles that would bring most people to their knees, myself included. The things you've accomplished, you're unstoppable. I know you'll be fine, and you've got people surrounding you who are going to make sure of that.”

Aaron sighed. He wished he had as much faith in himself as Dave did. It just simply wasn't there. 

“I'll look at houses,” Dave offered. Aaron shook his head.

“An apartment is fine. I don't need a house...it's just me.”

“And Jack. He'll need a bedroom, because he'll want to come and stay with you too.”

“Sure,” Aaron whispered, his voice breaking. 

“You know,” Dave offered, his voice registered with a touch of optimism. “If you can't return to the field, you'll be around here...you'd get to see Jack more often.” That was all it took to break him. Tears erupted before he could even do anything about it, burning hot down his cheeks. He knew his friend was only trying to be helpful, to offer him a silver lining, but it felt so bleak he couldn't stand it. His failures were being highlighted at every turn. Thankfully, they were interrupted by his therapy team coming in before he ever had to explain to Dave why he couldn't bear that thought, even if seeing Jack more was the best thing he could imagine. 

“Get ready to rumble!” his therapist called out, pretending to be oblivious to the mood in the room. She'd learned through the years that it was best to just move in and get on with the job, hospitals were emotionally draining places and if she allowed for everyone to have five more minutes, she'd never get through her day. Aaron didn't mind her interruption, except he felt himself get instantly frustrated before he even got out of the bed, and to make it worse, Dave was watching this time. Maybe it was better, Dave could see with his frustratingly optimistic eyes how terribly things were going, he could shove some of that positive attitude where the sun didn't shine. Slowly, Aaron took a deep breath and heaved his legs over the side of the bed, grabbed hold of the walker she'd placed in front of him, and gritted his teeth as he forced himself to stand up. Flames shot from his hip to his toes and back again, traveling at miraculous speeds along frayed nerves and his knee buckled momentarily just to relieve the pressure but he forced himself upright again and let out his breath.

“No holding your breath, Agent,” she chided and he nodded, taking a few small breaths in and out. He hated that she called him Agent, but she thought it was hilarious. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, eyes trained hard on the floor. Steps, he had to take steps. One, two, three...four, five, six full stop. Dave was watching like a hawk, he could feel his friend's eyes on him. 

“Can we try to lift?” she asked, and he nodded. First his foot, he tried to flex but got almost nowhere. He bent his knee, just a little more than he'd been able to the night before, but it was still disappointing to him. She clapped for him, trying to cheer him up, because it was an improvement but it was not enough for him. Biting his lip, he tried to lift his knee up, tried to get his foot off of the floor, and though he was able to make a little headway, it just wasn't happening. “Breathe..” she encouraged. “Take a deep breath and liiiiiffftttttt...now breathe out...”

It didn't happen, and she smiled at him anyway. “You did great! Now let's take a walk down the hallway, shall we? We'll walk all the way to the ice machine and back. Does your friend want to come along?” She wasn't really asking Aaron, she was looking at Dave who nodded and stood up, listening to his knees creak and pop and wondering when he got old enough to make his own sound effects with his joints. He helped Aaron into his robe, something Penelope had told him the therapist forgot the first time she took him into the hallway and even though he was wearing shorts under the hospital gown, he was mortified. He wasn't required to wear the gown anymore, and had since been wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, but he still looked like he'd rather have his robe on. It was a slow walk into the hallway and down the empty corridor, they'd get about five to ten slow steps and he'd have to take a break as she reminded him to breathe, he was very good at holding his breath when it got too painful or frustrating. Dave hung behind, just watching, firing off a few texts to friends in real estate to help him with finding apartments when they stopped. The trip back to the room took longer, and it took everything in Dave not to reach out and try to help his friend who looked utterly spent. It was amazing what one moment could do to a life. This man was in his prime, healthy and strong, and now a hallway was too much for him. 

“Derek!” Dave called, watching as the other man approached them, decked out in an all black suit and tie. He looked every bit the Unit Chief, he carried himself tall and sure. “What are you doing here?”

“I came by to check on my man,” he said, smiling at Aaron. “You're up!” Aaron nodded, tried to look more confident and strong than he felt. 

“Sort of,” he muttered, limping behind the walker. Derek walked side by side with Dave back to the room and watched silently as the therapist got Aaron back into bed and settled, letting him keep his robe on this time at Dave's request. She left them alone, with instructions to keep working on his range of motion exercises, promising to be back with more torture later that day. 

“She's a cutie,” Derek said, cocking an eyebrow. Dave and Aaron both shook their heads in unison. “Last time I had to have PT, it was this big guy named Mark. You're lucky.” 

“Mmmhmmmm,” Aaron hummed, shifting and leaning until he could take the weight off of his leg entirely. “How are you adjusting?”

“Man, don't worry about me,” Derek replied, standing beside Aaron's bed. “The team are helping me out a lot, I couldn't do it without them. We got this, you just work on healing up. How's it coming along anyway?”

“If I can't come back, would you stay in this role?” Aaron asked, his features shadowy and serious.

“Don't you even,” Derek started, but Aaron shook his head dismissively. He may have been laid up and completely vulnerable, but he was still Aaron Hotchner. At least, he was pretty sure he was. 

“I just need to know that the team is taken care of,” Aaron said in a soft, almost sad voice. Dave pleaded with Derek silently to just be gentle, but Derek didn't need it, he'd known Aaron long enough to know when to stand up and when to back down. This was not the time to stand up and fight. 

“Of course, man,” he answered, leaning on the bed. “I'm not about to leave you or this team hanging, you know that.” Aaron nodded, swallowing down a surge of emotion threatening to escape. He was at his limit for emotional outbursts, beyond really. 

“Derek,” Dave said quietly. “Why don't we pop out for lunch? I'd like to talk with you about a personal matter...”

Aaron and Derek regarded Dave suspiciously for a moment, but Aaron was too tired and uncomfortable to argue. He knew it had to do with him, he'd deal with it later. After some sleep. 

“Yeah, sure,” Derek replied, shrugging. “I'm always up for some grub. You're buying?”

“Of course.”

He thought the worst of it had passed, he really did, but being alone for the first time in almost two weeks was surprisingly difficult. It was so easy to slip into the darkness when he was alone. The house was big and quiet save for the ghosts of his past life floating around, reminding him that he'd been happy once. He was on the couch, because stairs were out of the question for him right now, and if he wanted to go anywhere he had to use the walker because they didn't want him relying on crutches, but the walker was humiliating and slow and painful, so he just sat wrapped in his blankets on the couch in the dark. He'd been home two days now, but it wasn't really home, it was just a temporary stop on the way. Dave and Derek had managed to find him a nice apartment (so they claimed) and were in the process of taking care of getting him into it, something he wasn't too keen on when you boiled it all down. Two weeks ago he'd been prepared to do it all himself – finding the place, moving the boxes, all of it. He wasn't taking any of the furniture, he wouldn't need any help moving, he could just quietly erase himself from the memory banks of this house and no one would ever know he'd been here. Closing his eyes, he could remember the day they walked through the house, on the hunt for their first Big Purchase As Husband And Wife – they'd only ever bought cars and lived in apartments before that, but now that he was joining the BAU, they were putting down real roots, and close enough to home that Haley could see her family whenever she wanted (he could too, if he'd been so inclined). They both gushed over the house, but he didn't want it – it was too big, far too big. He worried about Haley being alone in such a big house all day, but they did want children she'd remind him, and they would need space for that. It always slipped his mind, children. He found it a challenge to live in the imaginary future of having children, it took every ounce of energy he had just to make it from morning to night in the very real present. He didn't worry about her in the house anymore, the house he knew he'd still be paying for but never live in again. It didn't bother him, not being here – he stopped romanticizing big houses when he joined the BAU, there were too many places for bad things to hide, to go unnoticed, corners you rarely saw, closets never opened. Once Dave and Derek had worn him down to the idea of letting them find him a place, he was adamant that it be the smallest possible living space for him to accommodate Jack. This big house with its creaks and its groans, its shadowy places and cold patches, he didn't want it. Without Jack and Haley, his home was just walls and a ceiling, a shelter for the night when he wasn't on the road, a place to rest his head.

He couldn't have told you why he did it, but all at once he got a shiver down his spine and sat bolt upright, decided he needed to get to the bathroom because he was going to be sick, and without his walker, he made a move. Without his walker, he took a few steps, dragging his left leg as he limped toward the toilet, desperate just to make it. In the dark his foot caught the edge of the coffee table and sent him tumbling forward, scrambling to stay upright, and as he crashed to the ground all he could think about was the fact that his walker was only a few feet away and why the hell was he so stubborn that he didn't just use it. He lay there still for a moment, taking quick stock of how bad his fall was, and ultimately decided that aside from hitting his elbow on the table, he was okay. Didn't feel sick anymore, at least. He scrambled to pull himself up to his feet, to throw himself back onto the couch sore and frustrated with his body. When Jessica showed up, he was sleeping and she set about moving a few more of his belongings into boxes – photos in frames, Jack's toys, little things he'd never pack up on his own but she wouldn't let him leave without. 

The apartment was small. Dave wasn't a fan, but Derek saw a lot of potential – his contractor friend knew the landlord, so he'd managed to pull a few strings to get them in quickly. It had good bones, it was small, sure, but not too small. There was an elevator, and the apartment was all one level so Aaron wouldn’t have to maneuver stairs. It had been on both of their minds, though neither of them ever spoke it aloud.

“Not everyone wants to live in a mansion,” Derek had said, and Dave nodded in agreement, but he couldn't understand why. 

Furniture filled the place out. Aaron had said he didn't want to choose any of it, he didn't even want to be there, so Dave let his interior decorator take care of it, and Haley helped Jack choose his bedroom and set it all up. To her credit, she was being very helpful and understanding – she supposed seeing him in the hospital had broken her down against her will, but it turned out to be good for all of them. She would still be filing for divorce, but with less venom. 

He didn't want to be there, but truthfully he didn't want any of this in the first place. He didn't want his marriage to end, he didn't want to lose his family or his home, he didn't want to get shot at work, no one had consulted him. The apartment was fine, exactly what he'd expected, just a few walls and a ceiling. Didn't care much for the furniture, he would never have picked it out, but it didn't matter. Boxes lined the walls, waiting for him to unpack them someday, it would give him something to do in the long hours alone while everyone around him went about their lives. Jessica picked him up for his therapy appointments and made him lunch before leaving again, throwing in laundry as needed, doing all of the things she could to make his life just a little easier. More bearable. She would always offer to stay, and sometimes he took her up on it when the loneliness got to be too much, but mostly he just thanked her and let her go home. 

“I need you to watch Jack for me, I have a work thing...it's only a few hours,” Haley said, one day. “I'd ask Jessica, but she's at work too.” Aaron sighed and agreed, he'd figure it out. His apartment wasn't safe for a toddler, hell he wasn't safe for a toddler. He could barely walk, let alone chase a kid around making sure they didn't get into the kitchen knives or stick a fork into the toaster or flush the car keys. 

It turned out to be a disaster, exactly as he’d expected. Jack pulled down a pile of boxes, shattering the glass inside picture frames, and Aaron had to scramble to get Jack situated on the couch with the TV so he could try and clean it up. By the time he'd finished, there was blood everywhere from a slice on his finger but he was at least somewhat confident he'd managed to get it all. He tried to make Jack lunch, but he didn't have any of the right foods and that turned into a battle of wills with screaming and thrown food. He knew Jack didn't normally behave this way, but growing up the way he did, he recognized the way trauma seeped into all of the cracks and crevices. It was crushing, watching his son scream over a sandwich and yogurt, he remembered doing the same. He'd once thrown a bowl of cereal at the kitchen wall, because his mother had the audacity to put the milk into the bowl first, instead of pouring the milk over the cereal. He couldn't tell you why it angered him so at the time, but he was boiling with five year old rage. As an adult, he could recognize the anger as his trauma, but at the time...that cereal was wrong and he was furious. By the time Haley picked Jack up, they were both a mess and he was pretty certain she'd never let him be alone with their son again. 

Dave came by and cooked dinner after work almost every night, without fail. That night, the apartment was ransacked and Aaron didn't have the energy to clean it all up – Dave found him passed out on the couch in his heated blanket, toys all over the floor and bloody rags in the kitchen sink. He was concerned by the blood, but Aaron looked okay and he was sure he would have heard from Haley if something had happened to Jack so he tossed the bloody rags into the trash and set about cooking. By the time Aaron woke up, dinner was ready and Dave was sitting with a book, enjoying a glass of scotch. 

“Tell me about the blood...” he murmured without looking up from his book. Aaron smiled and held up his finger wrapped in Sesame Street band-aids. 

“Jack,” he said, and he didn't need to further elaborate. 

As it turned out, Haley wasn't upset with him over the mess or the broken glass or any of it, because she dealt with it on a daily basis. It wasn't Aaron's fault, it was life with a toddler. She started leaving him there almost every day for a couple of hours, because after that first day Dave had noticed a change in Aaron and he didn't want it to go away. He seemed motivated to fight to get his life back, as much as he was able. His motivation came from trying to make sure he didn’t ruin Jack’s life, put his son on the path to becoming just like him. He needed to save Jack. Within a few weeks he was cleared to return to work on light duty, chained to his desk. He was walking with the aid of a cane and leg braces, having been able to finally lift his leg just enough that the walker could be retired. He'd begun inviting Garcia out to lunch as often as he had time, his treat, anywhere she wanted. He wasn't great at giving gifts, but he desperately needed to show her how much he'd appreciated her friendship and her selflessness and he figured giving her his time was the best way to do it. Of course, it would have been a terrible gift if she hadn't wanted to spend time with him, but it turned out she did. Why, he couldn't quite understand, but she did. She'd missed out on a lot of Dave's stories, so she was trying to get him to tell her about the old days, though his story telling lacked a certain flair in comparison. Jessica was still taking him to and from his therapy appointments, even though he'd been cleared to drive, mostly because she wanted to keep an eye on him. He had a tendency to slip away. 

“Come in, JJ,” he said, sipping his coffee as he peeked out at her from behind a stack of files. She slipped a folder onto his desk, her features serious and drawn. Opening it, he saw why she looked so upset – it was a case with kids. The bile rose in his throat, he was out of practice. It would be the first case they’d have to leave for since he’d returned. 

“They need us in South Dakota,” she said, her voice shaken, hardly above a whisper. He nodded. He’d been preparing himself for this moment since he walked through those doors, but that didn’t make it any easier. 

“Get the team together, let them know,” he muttered. Up to this point, coming back had been easy. Like riding a bike. This job was a part of him, it was who he was. Morgan had been more than happy to give him back the reins, the paperwork, the meetings, all of it. But this was where it got messy. “Morgan will take the lead.”

“You're not...” she began, but he just gave her that look. The look she knew meant he didn't want her to make him spell it out. 

“I'll be here, if you need me.”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered, turning on her heel and rushing out of the room. He let his pencil drop to the desk and drug his hands over his face, rubbing at his eyebrows. Messy. He hated messy. 

“You won't even fly out with us?” Morgan asked, ready bag in hand, rushing into Aaron's office. “You can stay at the station, there's plenty to do.”

“No,” was the reply. It was cold, distant. “There isn't anything I can do there that I couldn't just do here. At least here I can give Garcia a hand.” What he didn’t say was that he was simply preparing them for the inevitable. They needed to get used to it. So did he.

“You and I both know she doesn't need a hand. You belong with us.”

“Call me if you need anything,” Aaron dismissed, putting an abrupt end to the discussion. He wanted to go, he needed to go, to be with them out there but he simply couldn't. He was able to spend most of his day hiding behind his desk, letting them believe he was doing well, but the truth was that he knew his time in the field was probably done and he just didn't have the nerve to admit it to them yet. His meetings with Strauss were becoming increasingly more discouraging. 

“You'll come along next time,” Dave said, popping his head into Aaron's office. He searched his friend's face, saw nothing but raw emotion for a moment before he went stone cold again. 

“Maybe,” he said, but he knew it wasn't true. He could barely put his own socks on in the morning, there was little to no hope that he’d come along the next time. He glanced at the cane propped up against his drawers, then back at his friend. Dave's face was a snapshot of concern and kindness. “Be safe out there.” 

He didn't go the next time, or the time after that. Each time they left, fewer of them asked if he was coming, until finally they stopped expecting that this time would be different. Dave would pop in to say goodbye every single time without fail, but even he had stopped asking if Aaron would be joining them. It got easier for them to hop on the jet and go without him. 

It was different for him. He'd be surrounded by the faces of the people he loved one minute, and the next he was alone. He'd come in, sit at his desk, and go home. Some days he'd work with Garcia, but mostly he was just alone in his cold office, surrounded by trophies and photos, reminders of the life he no longer had. 

And each goodbye was harder than the last.


End file.
